War time – 1939-45
Patrick considered it his duty to serve his country and enlisted right away. He had wanted to become a doctor to help people improve their lives and to contribute to making a difference. This was why he had been working at a hospital in a poor area prior to the war. Most of his fellow medical students aimed at opening their own practices or working at hospitals in wealthy urban areas. Not Patrick. He was among a small lot of young doctors who were idealistic, hard-working and determined to use medicine to improve people's living conditions.
In 1940, Patrick had landed in Dunkirk with the British Expeditionary Force. It was there where he first learned what it meant to live in fear of death. He was among the last men to be evacuated from the battlefield. Once he had been deemed fit for service again, just days after the evacuation, he was assigned to Cambridge Military Hospital in Aldershot.
There he carried on like he did before, by working as hard and as much as he could, escaping most opportunities to think about the terror he had experienced. He had occasional nightmares and sometimes when he had to deal with a soldier with particularly severe injuries, he felt fear clench his icy fist around his heart, but he made himself to carry on. It was his duty and the men needed him, he kept telling himself. Others were hit so much harder than him, who was he to not cope with a nightmare or two, he thought.
During his first shift at Aldershot, he had met his colleague Ted Horringer for the first time. Ted was an outgoing Londoner and the same age as Patrick. Ted, too, had enlisted immediately once the war broke out and had been working at Aldershot since. He and Patrick quickly became friends, despite being rather opposite in character. Whereas Patrick was more of a quiet person with a tendency to brooding, Ted was always joking and far more extroverted. Both, however, were equally determined to offer the best possible care to their patients and ready to hold back their own egos if necessary.
Like Patrick, Ted, too, had an interest in obstetrics and gynaecology. While both were interested in medicine because it gave them the opportunity to make a difference in people's lives, their motivation on how to achieve their goals differed. While Patrick felt a calling to help those who were disadvantaged and not well off, Ted was more interested in contributing to the modernisation of medicine through research. Before the war, he had worked at a private practice at Harley Street serving rather wealthy patients – those able to afford the most modern therapies.
Ted and Patrick also differed in another trait. While Patrick was not interested in casual relationships, Ted was known as a heartbreaker among the doctors at Aldershot. Everyone knew a story or two to tell about Ted and a different girl and everyone joked that they never bothered with learning the names of the girls Ted introduced them to because the next day, he would usually appear with another girl.
"It's a war out there. We need to seize the day, it could all be over tomorrow," Ted used to say. Nevertheless, Patrick appreciated Ted for being an honest and loyal friend and he found it easier to talk to Ted than to most other people. Among the other doctors at the hospital, Patrick was highly respected for his calm and professional manner and his skill in practicing medicine, but he was not considered a lad one turned to for having a good time; he usually appeared serious and self-contained towards the others.
But Ted liked Patrick as he was. Ted once confided in Patrick that he felt that most people only saw his fun side rather than acknowledging his other qualities; and he was glad he could always share a cigarette with Patrick and discuss matters somewhat more important than the next dance or whether a particular girl was a real or an artificial blonde.
Patrick, too, enjoyed Ted's company. He appreciated having a friend that was able to drag him out of his brooding from time to time. Not that there was much time; with the war going on, they never ran out of injured servicemen to treat. But ever since having encountered the horrors of the battlefield at Dunkirk, Patrick felt the idealism that had driven him to enlist wane. It troubled him to see so many young and able men return from the battlefield scarred for life. He knew that for every injured they received, one stayed back dead and he began to feel bitter about himself. Yes, he could help the men get better, but was this why he had trained to become a doctor? To patch wounds caused by shrapnel or shotguns?
Ted continued with his attempts to set Patrick up with a woman. He was aware of Patrick's broken engagement and kept suggesting Patrick should remedy his bad experience with making new ones. Every time Ted brought up the subject, Patrick smiled and refused politely. He would go out with Ted and his current girl but never made an effort to get to know anyone better. Other than Ted, Patrick felt that war with all the insecurities that it brought, was not a good time to fall in love.
Then one day, Patrick accidentally bumped into a young woman while on his way back from the post office. He was running late before the start of his shift and did not pay attention to the woman walking around a corner, carrying a large bag full of bread rolls that subsequently fell to the ground.
She shouted at him angrily, before, suddenly, breaking out in laughter when taking in his bewildered face. They introduced themselves. Clara Mills was originally a nursery teacher who had just begun working as an assistant nurse at Patrick's hospital. Patrick apologized heartily and helped Clara to gather the bread rolls which she had been sent to collect by her matron.
They walked back to the hospital together and Patrick offered her the first of many cigarettes they would share. They soon began spending their breaks together and went out for walks or to see a film when both happened to have the same day off.
Clara had short light-brown curls, many freckles and hazel eyes that always seemed to laugh. She was outgoing and spirited and always smiling. Patrick felt that when he was with her, he could forget everything that ailed him, and he began allowing himself the hope that there might still be a better future ahead.
"See, I told you, there would eventually be a girl to make you see things differently," Ted exclaimed at Patrick once he had come across the two of them sharing a cigarette and laughing about some joke Clara had made.
By early 1942 Patrick and Clara had become a steady couple. Patrick occasionally thought about marriage but whenever he pondered about how to bring up the topic, he found himself holding back. He could not put a finger on why until he found himself talking to Ted one evening after having had a few beers at a pub.
"Do you think I should ask her to marry me?" Patrick asked Ted out of the blue.
"Marry you?" Ted raised his eyebrows. "Well, what has kept you from doing it until now if you need to ask me?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Patrick frowned.
"Now, Turner, I hope you don't mind me saying so, but if you were certain, you would just go and ask her. You would not need to ask for my opinion," Ted explained.
Patrick bit his lips. He felt a little dizzy, clearly, he had one beer too many. Still, that one beer had made him breach a topic he had not been able to face before. "I don't know. It's just with the war and everything. I think she is a great friend and I can easily see us growing old together. But I am not completely certain whether I love her as much as she deserves."
"Oh, Patrick," Ted sighed, "Now, people do not generally turn to me seeking advice regarding love and marriage as you can imagine. But what most do not know, is that even I have a fairly romantic notion of love. Yes, I see all these girls and I like having a little fun. But I have never ever considered getting married to one of them. I do know, however, that one day, I will find a woman I will want to marry, and I believe I will just know it for certain then. You have been engaged before; you should know how it feels. Now Clara, do you like her or do you like the idea of being with someone who makes you laugh and forget about everything that bothers you?"
Patrick was at a loss of words. How did his friend manage to put his own doubts into words so perfectly? And how did his friend know him so well? Even though they knew each other for quite a while now, there were certain personal issues they rarely ever spoke about.
Over the next few days, Patrick avoided Clara. He felt he needed to sort out his own feelings before seeing her again. He had asked for a few days leave and went to Liverpool, visiting his mother. Back home, he was suddenly certain. This was what Olive must have felt when she broke off their engagement, he thought. Loving a person but not enough for spending the rest of their lives together.
He felt relieved when he returned to Aldershot. Once back, he immediately called on Clara. When he explained how he felt and that he was not certain how he felt about a future with her, she reacted not at all as he expected. Instead, she seemed quite collected rather than sad or puzzled.
"I am glad that you had the courage to speak about what is between us," she said. "I assumed us good friends. Very good friends, actually. But I was a little afraid of how you felt about me, and how you would react if I told you that I was not in love with you."
Patrick was astonished. He had expected her to react like he had when Olive had broken their engagement. Instead, Clara laughed and pulled him into an embrace before facing him again.
"Patrick, I am happy that we are on the same page here," she said. "You know, a few weeks back Rose, you know her, the red-haired nurse on the general ward, asked me whether I wanted you to propose. I said yes – but when I thought about it afterwards I was not so certain anymore. I think I would just like us to go on like we do, just having a good time together."
Patrick looked at her in disbelief. Where was this going? He had been so afraid of hurting her – and now she was simply all right with what he had told her. He was even more unsure what he should do when Clara laughed, "Oh, come here" and drew him into a tight embrace. They stood there, holding each other for a long moment. Then they loosened their embrace and looked at each other before joining in a heated kiss.
It was Clara who suddenly broke their kiss. "You know, Mrs. O'Donnell is not at home until tomorrow afternoon," she whispered, indicating that with her landlady away, Clara was the only person in the house all night. Patrick felt his face flush and a warm feeling pooled in his belly. This was certainly not what he had expected.
He looked at Clara, eyebrows raised and gently said "But - ,"
Clara interrupted him: "One reason I like you so much is that you are not at all like your mate Horringer. You would never ever make an indecent proposal; you are too much of a gentleman. And if you are shocked at what I suggest right now, I'll understand, and we'll just leave it at that."
Patrick certainly knew about sexual desires but had always prided himself in being able to control his. He felt that if it was expected of women to abstain until marriage, so could he. But now, a gate had been opened. He looked at Clara, eyebrows raised, and bit his lips. Clara reached out her hand to stroke his cheek. Her touch sparked something inside him and he began kissing her again in an entirely non-chaste way.
Under different circumstances he might have become self-conscious but now, with the war raging around them, with all the death and destruction, he decided to live in the moment. Patrick was certain that within the next twelve months he would most likely be sent overseas. One could not be certain about what the next day might hold, he very faintly heard Ted's voice in his head. Thus, he buried all of his thoughts about decency and chivalry deep inside himself and made a resolution to cherish the moment.
When he returned home late that night, Patrick felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. He had never anticipated this. Before he had left, Clara had embraced him tightly and whispered in his ear that she hoped they might repeat this night soon. Even if they agreed that they did not want to get married, why not spend the little free time they had in the company of each other, knowing that they were able to enjoy a good time together.
Patrick felt thrilled. He would never have thought that he would be that kind of man, a man having an intimate relationship with a woman he was not married to. He considered himself rather conservative in this fashion. But now, being with Clara elated him and it grounded him within a world threatening to slowly fall apart. Hence over the next months, Patrick and Clara kept spending their free time together, often engaging in activities that were not considered proper for unmarried couples. They had agreed that as long as they both felt content with the situation as it was, they might continue.
One day, about five months after their first night together, Clara informed Patrick that she had met another man. He was a lawyer, widowed already and considerably older than her. She did not know yet how serious their relationship might get but she felt she should end things with Patrick.
Patrick took her into his arms and wished her the best of luck. He had sometimes felt guilty, as if he was taking advantage of her, even though she had initiated their first encounter and was the one to keep asking him to continue with their affair. Still, this was not how he had been brought up and once Clara had ended it between them, he felt somewhat relieved, albeit sad of having lost a good friend. Clara had decided in order to avoid any future inconveniences to break all contact with Patrick and also to transfer to another hospital.
Patrick did not want to tell Ted about his affair; it was too personal, and he felt he should protect Clara. Ted, however, sensed that there was more between the two of them than walks, an occasional evening at the cinema and shared cigarettes but he did not let on anything. He knew by now that Patrick would talk eventually, as soon as he felt ready.
In 1943, Patrick was sent abroad again. Heand Ted were with the British allied forces invading Sicily and making their way across Italy. The change of scenery and the different pace of their work energized Patrick. During his very rare moments off, he sat down somewhere where he could admire the landscape, smoke a cigarette and take in the beauty of the country. He wondered if, had it not been for the war, he would ever have come to Italy. What a pity to have missed this, he thought to himself – albeit he would have rather come under different circumstances. He told himself that once the war was over he should visit other places on the continent as well.
Patrick desperately tried to remember some of his classics from school. As a boy he would never have guessed that one day he would try to recite his Catullus whilst in the middle of Italy - but he failed to remember anything beyond a few words, much to his dismay. He had always been more of a science person than a language person.
One night, he sat there with Ted, smoking and sharing a bottle of the local red wine. Both were lost in thoughts when Patrick suddenly said: "You know, what I had with Clara was more than just holding hands."
After a long pause, Ted replied matter-of-factly: "I know".
"I beg your pardon?" Patrick asked bewildered. "How?"
"Well, Turner," Ted grinned insinuatingly. "I just know. I knew from the looks you sometimes gave her when you thought no one was looking. And some days you had something about you… something… umm, well… fulfilled."
Patrick snorted. "Ted, why don't we both get married to each other. We always understand each other so well."
Ted broke out in a hearty laughter and put his arm around Patrick's shoulder and held out his half-smoked cigarette to him. "We definitely should consider it once this bloody war is over. Here, accept my love, Pat. I may not have a ring for you so this cig will have to do for now," Ted exclaimed dramatically and Patrick joined into the laughter.
It was moments like this that helped Patrick cope with death and suffering that surrounded him – until the battle of Monte Cassino. With each wounded man and every dead soldier Patrick saw, his fatigue grew. As the fighting in Italy continued into 1944, he was no longer able to see any good in his work. All he could think of was how utterly senseless this war, his training and anything else around him really was.
"Think about how many men would die if we weren't here to help," Ted, who began to worry about his friend's state of mind, argued one night.
"But we only patch them together so that they can return to fight," Patrick countered, "and everything begins again, from the start. And so many are dying. We just throw them into Hitler's and Mussolini's mouths. So many young and capable men."
Ted had been worrying about Patrick for some time. He'd observed his friend becoming more and more quiet. Ted had once been among the few people able to lift Patrick out of his brooding moods, yet he found this increasingly difficult, sometimes even impossible. Patrick hardly ever laughed or joked anymore and did hardly anything besides working long shifts and sit outside, smoking and appearing to watch the countryside but in reality, looking nowhere.
Patrick himself increasingly felt numb, like he was walking around half-sedated. He thought this was how it must feel living under water. His senses appeared dimmed. He knew how to function at work, he felt like a machine mechanically cleaning and stitching wounds, amputating bones, administering the few medicines they were receiving through supply lines.
In late 1944, Ted collapsed during a surgery. It turned out that he had contracted pneumonia a few weeks earlier but ignored the symptoms and now was critically ill. It took Patrick and the other doctors several weeks to stabilize Ted's condition so as to have him fit for travel. He was sent home to Aldershot and then onwards to a sanatorium. When Patrick saw Ted off, the friends promised each other to stay in touch and to meet again as soon as Patrick was back in Britain.
With Ted gone, Patrick had no friends left to at least try to lighten up his mood occasionally. He found it increasingly difficult to tackle his duties. In the mornings, he hardly managed to get up. He dragged himself through his days and did what he did best when he wanted to forget: burying himself in work. He worked relentlessly without pause. But when he went to bed at night, he could not find any sleep. He laid awake, tossed and turned and kept seeing the faces of young men dead and critically wounded whom he had not been able to save. The next morning, he got up again, not rested but wearier than the day before. But again, he would not be able to sleep the night after.
Then, in early 1945, he broke down.
He did not remember what happened and the doctors at Northfield only gave him a short account but apparently one day, after he had to declare another young soldier dead, he had sat down in front of the army hospital and not moved, not spoken one word and not reacted to anyone speaking to him. He had not cried or screamed, nor raged or sworn; he had just not done anything anymore. They had to carry him inside.
He would not eat nor drink and not even smoke. When his condition did not change after a few days, his commanding officer decided to send Patrick back to Britain. He was first sent to Aldershot where the doctors soon decided they were not able to help him properly. Thus, in April 1945 Patrick Turner was sent to Northfield Military Psychiatric Hospital.
During the first two months at Northfield, his condition remained almost the same as it was upon his arrival. He did nothing. He felt nothing. His body, his mind and his senses seemed to perform only their most basic functions. They kept him alive but nothing more. Patrick felt no pain, no hunger, no desire, nothing. He felt empty and exhausted.
Patrick could not smell anything. The many blossoms of spring, the season he arrived at Northfield, were lost at him. He could not taste anything. Any food tasted similarly of nothing. He ate, because he had to, but would not have been able to tell what had been on his plate that day. He sat through various sessions of group therapy and other appointments, but he was not really present. His body was but not his mind.
Into his third month at Northfield Patrick sat in the garden as he usually did during late afternoons, when he noticed a squirrel hopping around, climbing the trees up and down, jumping from branch to branch. Suddenly, he caught himself thinking he wished he was a squirrel, too. Just jumping from tree to tree, not having to worry about death and despair. He smiled, admiring the tiny creature's elegant movements and wondered whether its copper fur might feel as soft as it looked like.
That night, he ate with an appetite for the first time in many months and helped himself to three servings. Even though it would still take him two more months to regain his strength both physically and mentally, this day marked the turning point in his condition and he began to see the light at the end of the tunnel again.
Over time, Patrick got better and learned to appreciate life again, even though his occasional moods, as Marianne later would call them, would stay with him. Just like Ted, Marianne, and, much later, Shelagh, would be among the very few people who always knew how to reach out to Patrick in a way that would ease his mind. But for the most part, Patrick had learned to stow away his pain deep inside himself. The less he faced it, he thought, the less the danger of another breakdown.
Towards the end of his stay at Northfield, Patrick's doctors began to talk about the time after his release. Would he have a place to go to? What was his perspective? They would rather discharge him only when he knew where to go and what to do, otherwise, the danger of falling back into his war neurosis was considered too great.
